


Let It Take You from This Place

by Helholden



Category: Reign (TV)
Genre: Emotional/Psychological Abuse, F/M, Non-Consensual Bondage, Non-Consensual Voyeurism, Psychological Trauma, What Have I Done, What Was I Thinking?, You Have Been Warned
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-06
Updated: 2014-03-06
Packaged: 2018-01-14 19:03:27
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,086
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1277476
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Helholden/pseuds/Helholden
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He could look away and close his eyes, but he couldn’t shut out the sounds.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Let It Take You from This Place

**Author's Note:**

> Spoilers for Episode 13 if you haven't watched it yet. Turn back now.

* * * _  
_

_let it cover you with grace._  
 _let it take you from this place._  
 _and as your heart races, pack your suitcases._  
 _in the middle of the desert,_  
 _there’s an oasis._

— Grace Potter and the Nocturnals, “Oasis”

 

* * *

 

The silence in the room was deafening, for it made all the sounds more palpable and more real to his ears. Sebastian strained against the ropes tied tight around his wrists, a prisoner’s gift from his father, King Henry, but after this, he was no father to Sebastian anymore. Those ties were cut the moment King Henry bound Sebastian’s wrists together in a fine knot and dragged him to the consummation room to witness the union solidified between Mary and his brother, Francis.

 

A punishment, he was told, to remember what was not his should he ever return to court in the future, but it wasn’t fair because none of this had been Sebastian’s idea. He had never wanted his brother’s crown. He had never wanted the seat of France under his command, the formalities, the rules, the commands, the armies, or the country under his thumb. He hadn’t wanted any of it, none of it.

 

The only thing he had ever wanted was Mary.

 

Sebastian hadn’t asked for the rest of it. He had been threatened with beheading. He had been forced into an impossible decision to save his brother’s life, though it granted him the one thing he wanted, Mary.

 

 _Can I have more than a heartbeat to_ think _about it?_ he remembered saying, never wanting to betray his brother, never wanting to lose that bond they had shared as siblings.

 

It was burning now, a bond of rope like the one bound around his wrists, and it was soon to be gone forever.

 

Sebastian was ready to walk away. He was ready to accept the pain, the loss, and put it all behind him. He was ready to leave as his mother had left, and he was ready to take up the burden of being a wanderer again without a home, but this changed everything. His heart burned from the torture, all inside of him, none of it physical, none of it visible. His knuckles strained white against the bond, the ropes stretching further, but never giving way to the pressure.

 

He could look away and close his eyes, but he couldn’t shut out the sounds.

 

Mary had glanced over at him when King Henry brought him into the room, but Sebastian could not read her look. Whether it was silent trauma or indifference, he couldn’t be sure. She had chosen Francis, though, so this couldn’t be so hard for her to endure.

 

Not as hard as it was for him, for sure.

 

Francis had looked at him with a gleam of triumph in his eyes before he returned to kissing Mary, his hand reaching down between their clothed bodies. Luckily, they weren’t naked, so at least Sebastian couldn’t see, but even if he couldn’t see, he still looked away.

 

His wrists strained harder at the ropes as a little moan escaped Mary’s mouth.

 

He imagined being anywhere other than here. He imagined the fields he played in as a child, the laughter that echoed through the air. He recalled the memories of his mother singing him to sleep, of her gentle hands caring for his wounds he incurred with his rough playing.

 

As the sounds grew louder, Sebastian’s mental images turned from childhood to bloody images of revenge. He imagined his father’s face as a jousting lance drove into King Henry’s eye, knocking him from his horse and splintering off, blood everywhere as the crowd screamed in fright.

 

He imagined nameless faces, all driven down by his blade. Throats slashed, and blood spilling. He imagined death and retribution because it was the only thing that would get him through his moment. Afterwards, he would survive.

 

He always did.

 

He was strong, but right now, he was weak, and these bloody thoughts were his only comfort to get through the heavy breathing and coarse sounds from the bed.

 

Sounds he had thought to be making in Mary, had they been wed instead.

 

_Don’t plan on sleeping this night, wife._

 

Remembering his own words to Mary, Sebastian strained hard against the rope, so hard that he felt a hot wetness seep down his wrists. Blood, spilled from his skin. The only evidence of his pain, if his face was not enough. He felt the back of his eyes sting, but they were dry. They were dry, and there were no tears to shed. He had no tears for Mary, none for Francis. None for what he had lost. There was nothing. He was empty.

 

When Francis stilled on top of Mary, the ceremony was over.

 

Sebastian felt himself come back to reality with a sudden, sharp clarity, his eyes opening wide. He swallowed hard against the painful lump in his throat as the guards took him away on King Henry’s command. The bonds on his wrists were left until they had him outside of the castle on his own horse, and then they were cut. His wrists were sore, and they had been bleeding, but most of the blood had crusted over. Sebastian gently rubbed his wrists, barely registering the slight itch as the sores already began to heal.

 

The physical pain was nothing compared to what was inside of him.

 

The guards took his weapons, but they left him his other things. The ice cold air shocked him awake as Sebastian breathed it into his lungs, awakening him to the dangers of his situation. He was a bastard of the king, a threat to the realm. They would see him as a threat to every living son of King Henry for trying to usurp their birthright and change the line of succession.

 

Even if the idea had been Mary’s, not his, and where was she now?

 

As these thoughts came to him, Sebastian felt a numbness taking hold inside his heart. As much as he loved Mary, he had to do what his mother told him. He had to harden his heart against her if he hoped to survive, if he dared to live past this moment. The numbness was already taking root, and soon, he hoped, he would feel nothing.

 

As they passed out underneath the gate, Sebastian looked up at the pale stone and black iron high above him.

 

If he ever came back . . .

 

The gate was behind him now, and the darkening world ahead.

 

 


End file.
